Idle Hands

Held tongues, dying to speak
Restless hands turned tired and weak
Intention grows from a seed
Ignites the flame beneath our feet

And the ire growing
Spreads like fire
A mass insurgence
Upraising the pyre

What keeps the wolves at bay
Whilst you sleep and they come to prey
We forget their disdain
And all that's left is the fear they crave

Seclude to divide the fixation
Accomplices of our own ruination
Lost words and abandoned sages
Searching for meaning in all the wrong places

And what has become
Of our objection
So easily pushed aside
By steadfast complacence

What keeps the wolves at bay
Whilst you sleep and they come to prey
We forget their disdain
And all that's left is the fear they crave

Are you not adverse
To those you mistrust?
Are you not sickened enough?

What keeps the wolves at bay
Whilst you sleep and they come to prey
We forget their disdain
And all that's left is the fear they crave